Business Transaction
by Wynterstale
Summary: He needs a wife and an heir, she could do with a new direction in life. And some legal advice.


**Business Transaction**

 _Chapter 1_

Just perfect, he thought as he got back on his feet again and inspected the damage. His very expensive and once very elegant cloak was completely ruined. Its left side had been torn wide open when he hit the pavement and rolled towards the street. Too bad he had landed in a big puddle just outside the door he had just been shoved through. His trousers really did look better without mud stains all over them and he had a sinking feeling his wand was still on the other side of the now firmly closed door. Thankfully, it was Saturday morning, just after eight o'clock and not that many people were out and about Hogsmeade yet. He had counted six witches and wizards staring at him with shock written all over their faces so far. Plus one grim looking Goblin, but that didn't really count, did it. It could have been worse. It _had been_ worse lots of times.

He sighed and shrugged off the ruin formerly known as his favourite cloak. Damn. He could try to mend it later, provided he got his wand back. Or maybe he should let his older sister try. She was much better with household charms like that than he was. But he knew from experience that material like that wasn't that easily mended. It would never look the same again.

While Theodore Nott stood there on the sidewalk in front of a small house labeled number 58, contemplating the problem of quality vs. practicability, the wooden door that had just been slammed shut in his face (or his buttocks, to be precise) opened once more. He looked up in surprise and before he could arrange his face into his usual lopsided come-hither grin, he was hit square in the chest with a thick book and his wand came flying right after it, bouncing off is forehead. In his defense, he was rather hung over. Nobody could expect him to have good reflexes at this time of the day and after only three hours of crappy sleep, proceeded by a whole bottle of fire whiskey and God only knew what else.

It took him a few seconds of staring rather dumbly at the once again closed door to get his bearings. He eventually leaned down to pick up his wand but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on the book that his latest conquest had deemed appropriate to throw at him. He picked it up as well and burst out into a fit of loud, genuine laughter he wouldn't have thought possible in a situation like this.

 _Why Wizards should only be held as Witches' pets and how we can get there_

Who knew Susan Bones had it in her? He certainly hadn't. Then again, the first and only thing he had said to her this morning – after waking up in her bed and unsuccessfully trying to sneak out of the house undetected – had been "What's your name again?", so he wasn't exactly an authority when it came to her. He turned around with a headshake and the last bit of laughter died away. After all, there was a reason why he had gone out last night and gotten so shit-faced that, upon waking up, he couldn't even remember that he had gone home with somebody, let alone the naked woman's name. Sadly, a night full of fire whiskey and sex (Had it been good? He couldn't for the life of him remember) wasn't going to solve his problems. He was afraid nothing would.

He sighed, turned on the spot and apparated away, all the while praying he wouldn't end up vomiting all over himself.

Two litres of coffee later he was back in his own flat, located in Notting Hill – Muggle London. He knew fully well that nobody would ever expect someone like him to live among Muggles and that was exactly why he had decided to rent a flat in this upscale neighbourhood nearly devoid of magical beings. The Second Wizarding War had ended a little over nine years ago now and he had been living in this flat for just under nine. His father had been present during the Battle of Hogwarts, as had he. But other than his father he hadn't participated in the actual fighting. It had been his father's deepest wish - well, maybe not number 1 but still up there in the top 3 - that his son join the Deatheater ranks. Luckily for Theodore the war had ended before it could come to that.

So, when all surviving Slytherin students of his year had been searched after the final battle, there had been no Dark Mark on him… but he had still been a Nott. That fact alone had ensured that he had to answer a myriad of questions during the extensive trials following the war. His father had been convicted and thrown into Azkaban along with Crabbe Senior and other well-known Deatheaters nearly immediately and with little questioning. Some of his former housemates had met the same fate; others had died or gotten away without ever having to face trial. He, Marcus Flint and the Malfoy family on the other hand had to go through extensive questioning and spent a short period incarcerated in the dungeons of the Ministry. Everybody knew the Malfoys had been active supporters of the Dark Lord, but in the end they were released because they had turned their back on him just in time for the final battle. Good Timing. Marcus, like Theodore, had the bad luck of carrying the wrong family name. Both of them had never been known to be Muggle lovers or blood-traitors or whatever stupid names Draco had given the likes of Ron and Ginny Weasley back in the day, but they had never openly supported Voldemort either. So they had eventually been released as well and Theodore had moved out of Nott Manor, which was now inhabited by his sisters and granduncle. He hated the old bastard. Wilfred Nott was well over ninety, fragile, bitter and seemed to enjoy nothing more than to give Theodore a hard time now that his father wasn't around anymore to do it himself. The only thing keeping him out of Azkaban after the war had been the fact that he had left Britain during the early seventies to live in Russia and had only returned five years ago. The whole family knew that Wilfred had still been a very active supporter of Voldemort, of course, but the idiots at the ministry obviously didn't… or didn't care.

Theodore's father had died in Azkaban almost nine years earlier, not long into his life-long sentence. No big surprise for anyone who knew him. Edward Nott had already been close to 70 and in pretty bad shape when he had been placed in the "care" of the Dementors. Nobody had expected him to last long, least of all his only son. In the end, Theodore actually found he didn't really care whether his father lived or not. There hadn't even been a sense of relief. He just genuinely didn't care. There had been no connection between them anyway, at least none that mattered to Theodore. For his father on the other hand there had been the most important connection of them all: blood. That, of course, didn't mean Edward had ever felt inclined to be a particularly nice or caring father. His son had never been anything but a walking advertisement for the Nott family to him. Something to ensure the line didn't die out any time soon… If it had been up to Theodore himself, he would make damn sure that the name Nott would go extinct with him. As with any pureblooded family, there were many branches to his family tree of course, but apart from his granduncle he was the only male left with the last name of Nott.

Sadly, it wasn't up to him. His father had him in shackles, even now.

Anyway. Edward's demise had prompted Wilfred's return to England and **that** was certainly something Theodore had strong feelings about and none of them were good. The obnoxious old fart hadn't been in good health for years and if you had asked Theodore, he would have probably called it a combination of old age and fucking karma. The tyrant certainly was not going to live to see the next decade. Now, under other circumstances that would have been a true blessing in his opinion. Especially for his sisters who wouldn't have to endure the old man's temper any longer once he was worm food.

As it turned out though, Wilfred Nott would be an even bigger inconvenience in death than he had ever been in life.

Theodore was currently standing in his kitchen. The room was clean to the point of sterile, because it was rarely used. The young Nott heir (he supposed he still held that title, even though his granduncle seemed dead set on ridding him of it) had never been one for cooking or any other domestic chore. He was rolling in money, which meant he either ordered takeout or ate at a fancy restaurant and had a cleaning lady go through his apartment every two days. He couldn't even be bothered with cleaning charms. There was service for all that stuff after all. If he didn't think of a solution to his problem soon though he would probably have to learn a few household tricks, whether he wanted to or not. And he definitely didn't want to.

He grabbed himself a bottle of water from the fridge and went into his living room, plopping down on the couch. Usually he would already have taken a shower by now but his mind was preoccupied with other more important matters at hand. He would have liked to say he couldn't believe this was happening to him. But he had lived his life, with his family and his responsibilities for 27 years now and despite what some of his former schoolmates used to say, he wasn't dim. He had always known this was coming. Well, maybe not exactly this, but something like it anyway. He could still see his granduncles face in front of his eyes, tired and old but smug and condescending nonetheless.

He had gone to Nott Manor the previous morning. He usually went on Sundays to visit with his sisters but his granduncle had summoned him and he couldn't very well refuse the head of the Nott family, no matter how much he despised the man. Being head of an ancient pureblooded wizard family didn't only mean (questionable) prestige and authority over the rest of the family members, it also meant ownership of the family's ancestral home as well as complete control over the family finances. Which, in case of the Nott family, were considerable.

It really was just like his granduncle to order him over the day before he would be there anyway. Just another little dig to show Theodore who was in charge.

His older sister Margaret and younger sister Caroline had still been eating their breakfast when he arrived at precisely half past eight. He had bid them good morning before proceeding to Wilfred Nott's office located at the back of the west wing. A sharp voice had told him to enter before he even had a chance to knock on the door. He had opened the door to find not only his granduncle but also his father's former lawyer looking up at him grimly. Any lingering doubt as to the extent of trouble he was in had been wiped clear off his mind instantly. This couldn't be good and it wasn't. The following hour hadn't been pleasant. Wilfred had Louis Bachmann, the lawyer once again explain certain points concerning his late father's will.

 _In order to become head of the Nott family Theodore would not only have to be off age upon the event of his father's death, but also married. If that wasn't the case, his granduncle would be next in line and after him his cousin Gregory Fell._

Nothing new for Theodore.

 _If he was already married, but without an heir, he would have to produce one within three years after his father's death. "Heir" of course meant a legitimate, male child. If he failed to do so, the manor, the money – everything – would then directly pass on to his cousin and after that, if Gregory didn't already have or produce an heir as well, the manor would have to be put up for sale and all the money would go to various charities._

Nothing new as well but it still made Theodore's blood boil. Charities. Apart from the Dark Lord himself his father must've been the most uncharitable character he had ever known. It was just like him to still put such pressure on his only son even from beyond the grave. Of course he hadn't been married "upon the event of his father's death". He had been 18 and incarcerated, for crying out loud. Not exactly good prerequisites to find a wife and produce an heir. So his granduncle had assumed the role of head of the family and Theodore hadn't exactly been concerned with one day soon assuming the role himself. He figured he was still young, his cousin was even younger and his granduncle wasn't exactly a picture of perfect health but not close to dying as well. Not up until recently, anyway.

As it now turned out though, he was. And Gregory, who lived in France, had just gotten engaged to the oldest daughter of a pureblooded, prestigious wizarding family hailing from Monacco. Now THAT was definitely news for Theodore. He hadn't spoken to Gregory in well over ten years but he knew his cousin was only 23. Way too young to get married, if you asked Theodore. Hell, even 27 was still way too young to get married. 55 sounded more like it.

The young man lying on his couch gritted his teeth as his granduncle's last words to him echoed through his head:

"Your move, Theo."

Theo. He hated that nickname and the damned bat knew that, of course. Theodore didn't know what was worse: That his grandfather was so sure of the fact that Theodore wouldn't be able to find a suitable bride in time or that he himself knew for a fact that he wouldn't be able to do just that.

No, the worst thing was probably none of the above. The worst thing must've been his sister Margaret's reaction. She had laughed. She had actually laughed out loud! Theodore had half a mind to tell her none of this would have happened if only she, as the eldest, had already produced a male heir in his stead years ago. His father sure would have been satisfied with that and not have gone and changed his will right before the Battle of Hogwarts. But he had wisely kept his mouth shut before he could say something he would later regret. Margaret was 8 years older than him and had already been married once, to one of Vincent Crabbe's older cousins. Yeah, even Theodore who had only been a child back then had known that wasn't going to be a happy match. But their father had insisted and so it had been done. The marriage had lasted four years and to this day Theodore didn't know exactly what kind of horrors his sister had gone through during that time, but he was pretty sure beatings had been the least of it. Then, to his sister's endless relief, her husband had caught a rare magical disease while on a business trip and died rather quickly. Margaret had moved back into Nott Manor and not been with anyone since. So she had always been out of the question. His younger sister Caroline was only 14 and would start her fourth year at Hogwarts next month (first Hufflepuff in family history, too bad his father hadn't lived to see that – it would have killed him all over again).

After he had told Margaret that he didn't think the situation was even remotely funny, she had calmed down some. Didn't she see what was at stake here? His cousin Gregory was an idiot and not a very nice or generous one. He had never bothered to keep in touch with the rest of his family after his parents had died a few years back. The only reason Wilfred Nott knew about his whereabouts was probably that the old monster had gone and informed Gregory he could very soon be next in line. Probably right after the Healers at St. Mungo's had told him that his heart was starting to fail him and would stop working altogether within months. Theodore highly doubted a person like Gregory would take good care of the Nott inheritance, tainted though as it may be. More importantly, he probably wouldn't let his sisters continue to life in the manor. Theodore loathed his granduncle, but the guy had at least not turned his sisters out on their ears. He was all about outer appearance these days – call it damage control, if you will. So yes, his temper was rather nasty, but he mostly just ignored the Nott girls and let them do whatever they wanted, so long as they didn't step out of line.

Gregory on the other hand would have them out of here in no time. Caroline was still a child and Margaret did what most society witches like her did: She attended functions, had people over for tea, went for walks and played the piano. She wouldn't be able to support herself for very long once his cousin cut her off. Now, of course he would never let his sisters starve… but cut off his own allowance, it would be close to impossible to support the three of them with what he made as a lawyer. There weren't many people willing to work with him these days. All they thought of when they heard his name was Edward Nott and that was enough to turn most people away and seek legal advice elsewhere. He had always known it would be like that, but that had hardly mattered considering his financial background. He had been able to choose a profession he enjoyed and – ironic as it may be – he enjoyed jurisprudence. Without the family money, though? The three of them would go hungry very soon.

So … goddammit, but he needed a wife. A decent wife that would help his family regain at least some respect with the general wizarding public. He wasn't a fanatic like his father had been and in granduncle still was and he would still have preferred to never get married, have no children and let the name go extinct in a couple of decades, but that was out of the question. He had to get married and have at least one child and that was if he got lucky and begot a son straight away. So, he would need a bride that wouldn't bore him to death six months into the marriage or drive him up the wall with incessant moaning and groaning. She would of course also have to make a good mother. His own mother had died shortly after his birth and his father's second wife, Caroline's mother, was a real dragon who had fled the country after the war and left her young daughter behind. He didn't know if he would be worth two dimes as a father, but he sure as hell would make sure his children would at least have a real mother who cared for them. Equally as important, he needed a wife who would help redeem the family name in the public's eye.

That ruled out about 100% of the women he currently consorted with.

If he took his granduncles word for it, he only had a few short months to get married. How the hell would he manage that?

First of all he would go out for drinks tonight, he decided. He was pretty sure he wouldn't meet a marriageable female at a bar but it wouldn't hurt either to forget about his worries for a few hours. He'd just have to make sure he didn't go home with some random chit again… without getting her name first.

* * *

If there was any job in the wizarding world more ridiculous than hers, Hermione Granger would have liked to have a go at it for one day. Or maybe not. She shuddered to think what such a job would entail.

About two hours ago, her office had been notified of an elderly Muggle lady called Annie Carpenter who had called the local police about a very odd garden gnome in her backyard. Not only had he been farting but given her the finger as well. As usually when stuff like this happened in the Muggle world, the department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures had been informed and here she was now, together with her colleague Daniel, driving around an area very close to Little Whinging, looking (and smelling) for the culprits. It was a well-known fact that magical garden gnomes never went anywhere alone. If you saw one of them, there were usually a couple dozen more around. This was going to be her day then: Ridding Surrey of obscene garden gnomes before too many Muggles got a look at them. Sneaky little bastards. The gnomes, not the Muggles.

"This is so much fun", her colleague Daniel Carmichael exclaimed and Hermione was afraid he actually meant it.

"This is much better than last week when we were stuck in Scotland, tracking down the lost Re'em. I still can't believe this guy was trying to breed them up there."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She preferred a potentially deadly golden ox to boring garden gnomes any day. One of the reasons she had chosen to work for this particular department in the ministry had been her experiences during the war. After graduation she had thought she wanted to do something safer for a living than catching dark wizards and magical creatures had seemed tame enough at first. Plus, she had always been very passionate about helping those in need. But she had soon grown bored with paper work and organising projects to promote the importance of human rights for werewolves – and yes, house elf rights as well – at social gatherings for the very bored and very apathetic upper class of magical Britain. Trying to get anything to change that way was simply futile. It could take decades for new laws to be implemented and she had quickly realized patience wasn't exactly her strongest suit when she felt like she was simply wasting her time. Then, about two years into the job, she had started to do more field work and soon found that catching magical creatures in Muggle settlements and returning them to areas where they would be able to live undetected was much more fun and also quite worthwhile. It was days like this though when she really questioned what she was doing. Garden Gnomes? She was twenty-eight and had spent a good portion of her formative years fighting with Deatheaters and then destroying Horcruxes. She thought she at least deserved a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"I actually enjoyed that job", she absentmindedly murmured while she looked around for any signs of disturbances. They had already done damage control at the house where the Gnome had originally been spotted, but the little buggers seemed to already have moved on by then. Now there was nothing else to do but walk around the neighbourhood and wait for something to happen.

She could hear Daniel snort but didn't bother looking up at him. She could imagine the face he was pulling right now – complete disdain. "Right, nothing like nearly being trampled to death."

She was about to ask him if he really wanted to spend the rest of his life chasing Gnomes and such – he WAS 10 years her senior after all – when she heard a loud screech coming from one of the houses they had just passed.

"Time for some action!"

And with that Daniel was off and running. She followed behind him in a lazy jog, thinking that he probably did want to spend the rest of his life with small jobs like this.

* * *

A/N: I thought about ending the chapter after Theodore's part... but I wanted to also show a glimpse of Hermione. Please review.


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